Cold sweat popped out on his forehead, stung the blisters, and dripped from lips and chin. His fingers tightened on the wood box. All he could hear were Ehznoll' s chant and machinery clanking. He opened his eyes and saw Claybore.
The sorcerer had entered the same doorway they had. The fleshless skull rested on the body of a mechanical like those Nashira had used as menials. The parody of a human sickened Lan Martak. His hand reached for his sword, only to find nothing. His weapons rested outside, away from this shrine.
Claybore laughed and Lan quaked inside. The robot creature walked with irregular stride across the room. Krek appeared frozen. Ehznoll stayed on his knees before the altar. Only Lan could meet this threat. And his muscles refused to obey.
" You like my mode of transportation?" asked Claybore. " I rather enjoyed its tirelessness, although it doesn' t travel very fast. It also has a tendency to break down on the steeper grades. Still, not having to feed it like I would a more human assistant had benefits."
" The craftsmen in Melitarsus made it for you?"
" Unwillingly, but my soldiers can be very persuasive. Commander k' Adesina in particular. You' ve met her, I believe. A shame she cannot be here now; she patrols the base of the mountain. A charming woman, totally dedicated. But then, while there are only a few troops on this world, they are all dedicated. Yes, this artificial body has served me well." Claybore turned, holding long, spindly metallic arms away from his body to better show off.
Lan felt the sorcerer' s attention slip for an instant. His body reacted long before his mind realized he moved. He launched himself in a shallow dive that locked his arms around Claybore' s mechanical legs. The robot failed to move quickly enough to avoid crashing forward. Lan swarmed up it, then stopped, sick to his stomach.
The skull bounced away and landed against the far wall. He fought a headless body.
The slight hesitation was all the mechanical required to twist free. It scurried on hands and knees to the sorcerer' s skull and hoisted it back into place. Lan tried to rise; again came the leaden feeling in his limbs.
" The builder of the shrine foolishly devoted his energies to peace," said Claybore. " You fight against his spells, as well as mine."
" I can at least fight," muttered Lan.
" Yes, that surprises me greatly. For a bumpkin with no formal training, you have mastered many complex and ancient spells. I have thought long on how you avoid my death gaze, and have come up with no satisfactory solution. You instinctively protect yourself. I wonder if even you know how it is done."
" You won' t get the Kinetic Sphere, Claybore. We' ll stop you. We will!"
" We?" mocked the sorcerer. The robot body strode around while hands reached up and repositioned the head. The bone- white skull rested at a slight angle now, giving a jaunty, inquisitive air to the being. " Who is this ' we' you refer to?"
" Look, fool. A mountain arachnid. Krek. He is immobile, held firmly by my spells. His courage is a fragile thing. A few reminders of the time spent in Nashira' s arena and-"
Krek emitted a shrill chittering noise that tore at Lan' s heart. The spider' s chocolate eyes widened and his body convulsed, folding in upon itself until it looked as if he might totally vanish.
" See? Memories are such potent weapons. I had no idea the Suzerain of Melitarsus did those things to him. His mind, of course, conjures up far worse tortures than any outsider could produce. I simply release his imagination for: instruction."
Lan fought against the spell holding him pinned like a butterfly. He made slow progress back toward the wooden box on the altar containing the Kinetic Sphere. While he had no plan, could not expend the effort to make one, he realized the Sphere was the most potent weapon against- and for- Claybore.
" Krek' s courage diminishes with every passing moment. If I allowed this mental fantasizing of danger to continue, he would die of fright. So, he cannot be part of this ' we' you refer to. Perhaps you mean this wretched creature. This pilgrim Ehznoll. Once a valued flyer on this world, but now a worthless parasite sucking up dirt and calling it religion."
The mechanical went to where Ehznoll still knelt and prayed, his lips working silently on new and more righteous chants. A metallic foot kicked out and sent the man sprawling. Ehznoll' s wrists remained crossed over his breast and his eyes never left the altar. He had achieved his paradise, the end of a long pilgrimage, and none robbed him of his moment of rapture.
" He controls many spells you do not. You never realized this, did you, Lan Martak?" The skull turned and faced Lan. " Go on, struggle. Try to reach the altar. I enjoy watching your pitiful efforts."
Lan continued to fight. Claybore toyed with him, but the sorcerer did not kill him outright. That led Lan to believe, rightly or wrongly, that Claybore was still unable to muster sufficient strength. The spells holding Krek took a considerable amount of strength. Further energy went into immobilizing Ehznoll. And the more Lan fought, the weaker the spell holding him became. Claybore boasted of his ability, but the three of them together strained that ability to the limit.
" In fact, allow me to give you a preview of what awaits you." The robot- creature turned so that the eye sockets of the skull pointed directly at Ehznoll. Twin beams of ruby light lashed forth, bathing the pilgrim in a wan, ruddy glow.
Ehznoll screamed in agony.
" You are not of the earth!" he shrieked. " You defile the heart of the earth. You are not the god I believed. You tricked me. Youaieee!" He clutched his sides and curled into a fetal position. Every line of his face, every contour of his body, reflected the pain inflicted by Claybore' s death gaze.
Lan watched and felt compassion for Ehznoll. In that instant, Ehznoll lost much of his faith, had his tenets crumble around him. The death of a belief might be worse than physical death. Lan also felt the lessening of the immaterial bonds holding him. Claybore had gone beyond the limits of his ability when he provoked and tortured the pilgrim. He could hold, but the addition of the ruby gaze forced him to turn more attention to Ehznoll. While not entirely gone, Lan successfully fought the binding spell.
He attacked.
Again, his arms circled the mechanical' s legs. This time the tackle failed. The metallic creature turned and kicked. Lan tasted blood as his lip split against the sharp knee joint. He hung on and worked his way up the body, probing, hitting, butting, keeping Claybore' s robot off balance. Spindly arms crashed into his back. Legs sought to knee him in the groin. Twisting and turning in an attempt to fling him away, the mechanical succeeded only in losing its balance again. From the way it had tottered into the room, Lan guessed it had been damaged on the climb up the mountainside.
Man, machine, and skull crashed down in a pile.
Lan was as strong physically as the metallic creature; his reflexes were much faster. The man pinned his knees down firmly onto geared shoulders. He stared directly into the empty eye sockets, of the skull still perched on that metal neck.
" Die, fool!"
The ruby beams leaped forth.
Pain beyond comprehension washed through Lan' s body. He held on. He had thwarted the death gaze before, in the dreams, when Claybore remained at a distance. But he didn' t know how he' d done it. Searing, soul- wrenching misery assailed him until he almost passed out.